Free Beckham by David Beckham Page A

wasn’t aware of it at the time but I think, to start with, they weren’t sure about me at all: Gary says they had me down as a flashy little cockney. I can understand why. It wasn’t because I was loud or anything but, when we were handed our uniforms, I’d always end up with the nicest tracksuit and the best-fitting boots. I happened to get on really well with the equipment manager, Norman Davies, and he just looked after me. I’d known Norman for a long time already from going to the games as a kid and, maybe, this was my reward for helping him tidy up dressing rooms for the first team at places like Upton Park all those years ago.
    I was from London and the other boys were from the Manchester area but it was surprising how much we had in common. Apart from loving soccer and having the ambition to play for United, there were things in our backgrounds that brought us together as well. Gary and Phil’s mum and dad, for example, were so much like my parents. They’dbe at every game too. I think the Nevilles and the Beckhams had the same sort of values and saw life in much the same way. I know the four of them took to each other straight away and I’m sure the similarity in our upbringings had a lot to do with why Gary and I became such close friends.
    Gary, Nicky Butt and Paul Scholes had all played together for the same Sunday League team. Boundary Park must have been a northern version of Ridgeway Rovers. Not only was the team successful, it had the same spirit and sense of loyalty that we’d had at Ridgeway. Those boys had been learning to approach soccer in the right way, picking up good habits, at the same time as we were. It was natural that a sense of togetherness grew pretty quickly at United. Quite soon after we started, we went off to Coleraine in Northern Ireland for a tournament called the Milk Cup. Teams came from all over the world to compete, and that was the first time we represented the club as a group.
    We had a brilliant time. We were all about sixteen, on a tour together and getting to know each other, as players and as people. The Milk Cup competition is still going. As well as the games, there’s quite a lot of ceremony: I remember us being paraded through the streets of the local town, trying to look sharp in our Manchester United tracksuits. Nobby Stiles was in charge of the trip, along with a trainer named Jimmy Curran. Nobby knew me and trusted me, and he made me captain for the tournament. It was some team: as well as the players who are still at Old Trafford, there were plenty of others who went on to have good careers elsewhere. Ben Thornley was our best player on that trip and got the award for Player of the Tournament. He’s done well since leaving United, despite some shocking injury trouble over the years. With Gary, Phil, Paul Scholes and Nicky Butt playing alongside the likes of Ben, Keith Gillespie, Robbie Savage and Colin Murdock, it’s no wonder we won the cup. We stayed at a hotel owned by Harry Gregg, who was a United great himself. He survived the Munich Air Crash and he lovedhaving the United youngsters around the place. The Milk Cup was the first silverware any of us ever won as United players.
    Every single day was an exciting one back then. Before I’d left home to start as a trainee in Manchester, Dad had drummed one thing into my head.
    â€˜You may have signed for Man United, but you haven’t done anything yet. When you’ve played for the first team, then we can talk about you having achieved something. Until then, don’t start thinking you’ve made it.’
    Did he need to tell me that? Well, it did no harm to know Dad would be around to keep my feet on the ground. But I hadn’t been running around boasting, telling everybody that I had signed for United. I’d just been looking forward to going and couldn’t wait to start work. Once I did, of course, I realized what Dad had meant. I’d been to